


Skin

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Gen, Language, Skin, Song - Freeform, X Ambassadors, lyric - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: Dean struggles with the mark of Cain.





	

_Entry #2 for the[Album Writing Fanfic Challenge](http://mrs-squirrel-chester.tumblr.com/post/150078561807) _

* * *

Despite not tasting it, Dean grimaced as he swallowed the amber whiskey. Something about muscle memory or some bullshit like that. He could’a swore Sam rambled on about it one day. Eh, who the fuck cares, anyway. That’s not what Dean was worried about.

It was the mark. The fucking mark on the inside of his forearm. The fucking mark Cain handed over like it was a fucking book Dean was borrowing. Like it could be returned when he was done with it.

Fuck! He felt like a goddamn idiot.

Looking down at it, the three lines dark red and puffy, he couldn’t stop from running his finger over it and the skin around it. Sitting there, alone and in the dark, he knew what the knot in the pit of his stomach was, he finally had a name for it. He felt stuck. Everything that had come before this, they had found a way out. But not this time. Dean just couldn’t voice it to his brother.

As the mark grew stronger, Dean began to feel like two different people at the same time. It was weird, fighting a battle no one else could see. But Dean saw it, every time he looked in the mirror. He would stand there and stare at himself, trying to see the person he used to be, the person he wasn’t.

And Sammy… fuck. Sammy kept saying they’d find a way out of this, that Dean would be free of the mark, that they just needed a little more time. But Dean wasn’t sure how much time he had left and everything they looked into was a bust. No progress was better than falling back a couple a’hundred paces.

The more time that passed, the less control Dean had. The struggle to be two different people at the same time began to fester, and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer. So what did he do? He ran his fucking mouth, trying to be somebody he wasn’t, trying to be the brother Sam wanted, that Sam needed.

“Dean!”

Speak of the fucking devil. “What’s up?”

Sam jogged in, book in hand, and that glimmer of hope in his eyes that made Dean’s stomach roll. “I think I got it, a way to get that thing off your arm.”


End file.
